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lena ©alfeeiti) JBurton 



^xoit Cfjantg 

BY 
LENA DALKEITH BURTON 



WEBSTER COURT 
NEWTON CENTRE, MASS. 



Copyright 1915 by 

The Berkeley Press 

of Boston 



m 30 1915 
©GI.A4nG7ni 






S^vo&t Cfjants 



^ir^HE soul in me cries for utterance . . . 
^*«^ the soul in me calls for speech. 
Break, oh break, ye grey-woven bands of 
silence . . . the wings of my song are 
shaken with desire. Break, oh break, 
dark chrysalis, where I have lain in a 
dream, voiceless, a thousand years. 

Sound breaks upon me in the darkness 
. . . sweet voices, muffled and wild calling, 
calling for answer. 

Scent drops down to me in the dark- 
ness . . . faint curious perfumes, the breath 
of what unknown flowers stirred by what 
strange wind! How may I reach and 
know? 

Light falls upon me in the darkness . . . 
great showers of intolerable light ! 

The threads are breaking . . . breaking. . . 
oh exquisite anguish ... oh grave golden 
wonder of creation ! Unloosed, unloosed 
forever the silk of silence . . . empty the 
cocoon ! 



iHENEVER I hear of sorrow . . . 
Whenever I hear of suffering . . . 
Whenever I hear of death . . . 
A great wind of exultation 
Sweeps in upon my soul 
And I am borne upward 
As on the purple wings of triumph 
To the very threshold of the golden 
house of God ! 



i:t)e pilgrim 

/J^H strange and dark and adventurous 
^^ is my path. 

The light that I carry will only illu- 
mine one step on the way, hold it as high 
as I will. And my wallet has in it only 
enough bread and wine for the day. 

When I return home from my wan- 
derings the oil in my lamp is burned out 
and there is not one crumb left of my 
portion. Yet what care I ! A beggar, I 
lay me down at night upon my hard bed 
but at dawn I arise, and lo ! there is oil in 
my lamp and enough food in my wallet 
to fill the mouths of a multitude ! 

Oh strange and dark and adventurous 
is my path. 



CAPTURE me if you will, put me in a 
dungeon, surround me with thick 
walls of impenetrable stone, bind my 
feet and my hands with iron chains, blot 
out the light of the sun and the cheerful 
voice of my fellows. 

Or if you will imprison me in some 
dark inaccessible cavern in the solitary 
heart of the earth and I will sit there in 
the silence, ... I will sit there alone in 
the silence and without the lifting of a 
foot or the turning of a hand, by the 
power alone of my spirit, in a little time 
or maybe in a long time (it matters not) 
I will escape you. 

Snbocation 

COME forth Thou who art myself! 
Thou the Nameless One, the Hidden, 
the Unknown. Come forth, oh come 
forth from silence, from darkness, from 
mystery ageless and timeless. 

Breathe, breathe into silence, if thou 
art Voice, if thou art Word . . . 

Shine, shine, thro' darkness if thou art 
Flame, if thou art Light . . . 

Burn, burn, thro' the veil if thou 
art Life, if thou art Fire . . . 

I who am mortal put my spell on thee, 
Immortal! 

Come forth . . . Oh come forth ! 

I who am mortal lay my command 
upon thee, Immortal! 

Come forth . . . Breathe ! shine ! burn ! 
oh nameless Word! Oh hidden Flame! 
Oh unknown Fire! 



Snbotatton 

^r will have power of thee oh Thou 
-^l Divine Power whom men call God. 
A great formless mass as it were of live 
and fiery stuff, quick and dangerous, and 
strength for the shaping thereof. 

I will have power of thee Lord God 
of men and angels. 

I will lay the spell of my desire upon 
the sky . . . upon the earth ; upon the sea. 

Upon the fire of suns and stars and 
moons; 

Upon storms, lightnings, thunders . . . 

Upon winds, and waves, and waters . . . 

Upon rocks and trees, unbound 
streams, earth broken and unbroken . . . 

On all dumb things . . . 

Upon man and his works . . . 

Upon crowds; upon strangers passing 
in the street, and the beggar that comes 
to my door in the twilight . . . 

Upon those that are near and those 
that are far . . . 

Yea! Upon the whole visible world, 
and upon the invisible, I lay the spell of 
my desire! 

And upon thee, Lord God! 



jFreebom 

'Tf ET you stand aside brother and keep 
>^ your hand from mine that I may drink 
of the cup that is waiting for me, and I 
with Hps dry and parched and the Ufe in 
me running slow and feeble because of 
the terrible thirst. It's no right at all ye 
have to be keeping the stuff from me and 
it so fiery and sweet. It's no right at all 
ye have, and if there's poison in the cup 
who are you to say "Nay, Nay" and 
"Yea, Yea" as if ye were a bigger man 
than God himself ! Let you look to the 
filling of your own soul and body, and 
leave me the freedom of mine. 

Let you stand aside brother . . . the cup 
is mine and it's I that will be drinking of 
it and it maybe bringing the death to me. 

Let you stand aside ! 



'Tf ONELY, lonely and wild I am, and 
>^ out must I go to the lone and the 
wild. Far too long have I stayed in the 
shelter. I am tired of make-believe sun- 
shine, of yellow curtained light. I am 
weary of painted green trees and if I see 
another pink paper rose I swear I shall 
go mad! 

Lonely, lonely and wild I am and out 
I must go where grey rocks are ragged 
and trees stark and bare. And you, little 
pack at my feet, my wolves of hunger 
and thirst, my hounds of torment and 
desire, you too shall go free. Far too 
long have I kept you at heel, tamed you 
and fed you by hand in fear of your 
claws, in fear of your teeth. You shall 
go free, my brothers, you shall race, you 
shall leap furiously over the rough ground 
seeking your own. You shall hunt, you 
shall hunt, you shall find. Me shall you 
hunt, me shall you find, me shall you 
rend with your claws and your fangs and 
when you kill it is my living heart you 
shall devour and my warm blood you 
shall drink. 

Out, out I must go . . .1 the lonely, 
the savage, the wild, I and my pack. 



c 



a Woman ^peafesf 

OMORROW? I know nothing of 
tomorrow. This is today. 

You say tomorrow I shall be robed and 
crowned and brought in triumph to the 
house and set in my place above the salt 
at the king's table. Tomorrow! I know 
nothing of tomorrow. Today I tell you 
I lie naked among the outcast and the 
beggar at your door. 

You say tomorrow I shall be given the 
sword and the charter and the keys and 
that the freedom of the city shall be mine. 

Tomorrow? I know nothing of to- 
morrow. Today I tell you I am a rebel 
and an outlaw and my life is forfeit to 
the lust of the meanest slave in your 
kingdom. 

You say tomorrow that my voice shall 
be heard among men and that my chil- 
dren shall live. 

Tomorrow! I know nothing of to- 
morrow. Today my children die by 
thousands and ten thousands in the 
breathless streets and in the sweatshops 
and the brothels of the city and I see 
them and am dumb., .dumb as a dog. 

Tomorrow? What of tomorrow? I 
know nothing. This is today. 



Snterlube 

^CT is grey and sober where I am and 
-21 very still. 

The mists of the dawn are not yet 
lifted and I cannot see the face of the 
East. 

None can reach me here or if they 
come they will not know me. 

I am only one blade of grass in the 
wide field of the early world and my 
dreams and desires tremble no further 
than to the rising of the Sun. 

W^H Moods, oh ye Messengers! Ye 
^^ come sweeping across to me over the 
dim twilight edge of the horizon on 
winged feet and golden. Oh Exulta- 
tions, Agonies, Splendors, Despairs, you 
come sweeping over to me and my 
world is filled with a sound as of music 
and a great blinding light. 

Oh Moods, oh ye Messengers I know 
your secret now, I know you bring 
me tidings of the everlasting Gods and 
no longer am I shaken by your beauty, 
no longer am I bound by your spell. 

I can capture and hold you with my 
naked hands and your brightness will not 
burn me. I can look deep and long into 
your strange eyes and their secrets will 
not blind me. I know now why you 
are come. I know you bring me 
immortal tidings from the Gods. 

Oh ye Moods. Never again can you 
pass me unchallenged. Never again 
will I let you go by with your message 
undelivered. 

10 



ilHagic 

|0 you think to baffle me you mad- 
cap, you faery? Do you think I 
cannot find you, beautiful thing, wher- 
ever you are? 

There was a time when you lured me 
out on the wild heath to play with the 
winds and the stars and you were the 
stars and the winds my playthings. 

There was a time when you sent me 
out on a strange ship through strange and 
stormy waters and you were the perils I 
braved and the storms that o'erwhelmed 
me. 

There was a time when you set me 
alone in the desert without food or 
water, and you were the hunger and the 
thirst and the loneliness I endured. 

And now when you have put me into 
a small house, with floors to sweep and 
beds to make and many mouths to feed, 
do you think to baffle me? Because 
you have made yourself small enough to 
be tucked away in a bean pot do you 
think you are hidden from me ? Do you 
think I cannot see you among the mops 
and the dishpans, in the cobwebs and the 
corners; or that I cannot catch a glimpse 
of your silver whiteness beneath the dull 
brown dress of the housewife ? 

Do you think beautiful thing I cannot 
find you wherever you are ? 



11 



Attraction 

laOU are strange to me and you trouble 
cS^ me . . . little you know how I long 
to be your friend. 

When I am with you I tremble ; I can- 
not hear what you say, for the thunder 
of my heart. I stammer and stutter and 
fall to silence. I cannot bear to be made 
so violently aware of myself and I leave 
you suddenly and go about my work 
cursing the timid fool that I am. When 
I dare not come near I watch you from 
afar but I cannot keep away for long. 

You are strange to me and you trouble 
me. Little you know how I long to 
make you aware of me. Little you know 
how I long to be your friend. 



Attraction 

^ifROM very far away I look over to 
Jl you wistful and wondering. You 
do not understand and I am inarticulate. 
The beautiful grave words of friendship 
that I would speak are prisoned like 
doves in my heart . . . and I cannot set 
them free. 



12 



iWiracle 

/i^H you who carelessly passing touched 
^U^ me and went lightly on your way 
with never a backward look, will you 
ever know the miracle you wrought. 

I am most suddenly set free ! From a 
cumbering web of illusion and dream I 
am disentangled. I stand in a new place 
realizing for the first time myself. 

Oh Life potent and magical stirring 
within me . . . 

Oh changed and everchanging world 
and I too, changed and ever changing 
exquisitely responsive. 

I renounce all past beliefs, all past 
ideals, all past desires. 

I believe only the unbelievable. 

I strive only for the impossible. 

I desire only the unattainable. 

I am out on the Eternal Quest. 

I seek the Holy Grail. 

I have a new voice and a new word to 
speak but you have passed on. Alone, 
alone, my self must go, changed and 
everchanging walking in a strange way 
toward a strange end . . . 

Oh you who carelessly passing touched 
me and went lightly on your way, will 
you ever know that you made me 
immortal. 



13 



3 ^pell 

'2i draw from the deeps You ... to com- 
-21 plete that which is yet incomplete . . . 
to build that which is yet in the building 
... to make whole that which is yet 
separate and imperfect . . . whether en- 
shrined in flesh or moving free. 
I draw from the deeps You. 



Jfellotogfjip 

-Jir^HOU art very far my friend . . . Thou 
^^ art very near. 

I go up on the hilltop and look down 
the long distance of God and lo ! on the 
farthest horizon Thou art! 

I walk by the eternal lake where no 
wind stirs; I kneel and look down into 
the crystal and lo ! I behold thee, my very 
self. 

Thou art very far my friend . . . Thou 
art very near. 



14 



Cfje Bap of Baps; 

^JN the dawning the silver trumpet of 
^ the Angel of the morning blows 
clearly and loud across the quiet fields of 
sleep and I hear and with joy arise and 
make ready. 

But what shall I say of the hours that 
go between the dawn and the nightfall? 

I will say they are the diggers and 
delvers in the earth; the strong men; 
the hewers of wood and of stone, and 
that with pride and a cheerful arrogance 
they bend to their mighty task, for I ask 
you, how without their aid shall be laid 
the foundations of the House of the 
Lord? 

And I will say they are the merchants 
and the dealers, the buyers and the sell- 
ers, and that they wander all over the 
earth and return by land and by sea, 
bringing rich cargoes and rare merchan- 
dise for the adornment of the House of 
the Lord. 

And I will say that they are the reapers 
in the fields and the grinders of corn, the 
laborers in the vineyard and the treaders 
of the wine press, and that their hands 
are horny with toil and their feet red and 
stained from the purple of the grape, for 
I ask you, how without their aid shall the 
bread and the wine be prepared and 
made ready for the sacrament of the 
Lord? 



15 



tKfje £iqfyt of ^i^W 

^JN the twilight comes silence and rest 
^ and the tides of God flowing over 
my soul that was dry and parched and 
sunbeaten. 

But what shall I say of the hours that 
go between the night and the dawning? 
I will say that they are the makers and 
builders of the temple of the Most High, 
and that the ringing sound of their labor 
is sweeter than the song of the angels. 

And I will say they are the magicians 
and the artists, the adorners of the temple 
of the Most High, and that the work of 
their hands is of a beauty unimaginable 
and a splendor undreamed. 

And I will say further that they are the 
priests of the temple of the Most High 
and that they come clad in raiment white 
and shining, bearing the golden cup of 
wine and the sacramental bread and that 
whoever eateth and drinketh thereof 
shall never know death. 



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